


Birds Fly North

by Wolf_of_Winterfell



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anger, Angst, Escape, F/M, Feast day, Love, Poisoning, Pranks, Sickness, Uncertainty, joffrey is a prick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 14:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5669500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolf_of_Winterfell/pseuds/Wolf_of_Winterfell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa remains a prisoner after the Battle of Blackwater Bay. Joffrey remains on the throne and Sandor didn't desert.</p><p>Joffrey grants his loyal servant a Feastday favour, which sees a chain of events unfold that no-one could have anticipated.</p><p>Expect some bad language and shenanigans!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds Fly North

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick fic!
> 
> The language is a bit ripe, the timeline and events are wonky but hopefully you will enjoy it.
> 
> I imagine Sansa as 20 years old in this fic.

Sansa felt bereft.

Not only was it almost Gods Feast, it was her second as a prisoner of the crown. This Feastday was celebrated as a reminder of the bounty of the Gods, to give thanks and ensure continuing favour in the coming year. Sansa suspected that Southroners used it in the belief that it would stave off Winter, little did they know! Sansa tutted at their folly. Every Northern child was taught that Winter is inevitable.

As she looked out of the window of the Red Keep, she remembered her last Gods Feast with her family, playing games and exchanging presents. Most of her family were long gone now, father, mother, Robb, the boys and Arya. Sansa and Jon were all that was left of their family.

A knock at the door punctuated her thoughts.

"King wants you now". The Hound was brief as always, his armoured frame seemed to engulf her modest chamber. She nodded and smiled, resisting the King's wants wasn't worth the cost, she'd paid in beatings, bruises and the complete loss of dignity. Her degradation started shortly after her father was executed, she knew that he wouldn't have allowed Joffrey to abuse and humiliate her as he had.

Sansa kept pace beside Sandor Clegane as they made their way to the Throne Room. Although the correct posture as befits a lady had been drilled into her since she was old enough to stand, she stooped and hunched as they drew nearer: adopting the passive stance of the condemned man, as if her destination was the chopping block rather than the Throne Room. She wished to be unnoticed and inoffensive, too proud a posture would enrage Joffrey. Let him think her broken and defeated, although it wouldn't prevent his ire altogether.  

She placed a hand on his arm and felt him jerk in surprise. "Sandor, I don't know what he's got in store for me today. If I am unable to tell you tomorrow, I hope you have a lovely Feastday." She caught the look of surprise in his eyes but he said nothing.

...............

 

"Ah my lady, the whore of House Stark! How lovely of you to grace us with your presence" Joffrey's green eyes glittered malevolently in his small face.  He was draped over the Iron Throne like it was made of padded Myrish linen. Sandor resumed his place behind the King.

"Your grace" Sansa dipped a curtsey, hoping to placate him. She was aware that the Throne Room was relatively quiet but the courtiers nearest her had moved away, as if she had greyscale. She clasped her small hands demurely in front of her.

"I have decided to reward my loyal servant for him unwavering service. He has asked for a taste of your cherry lips my lady, I told him to take anything from you he desires but not your maidenhead, I will enjoy that myself" The look on his face was pure evil. "Stand forward Ser and claim your reward".

Sansa could see movement behind the throne. Ser Boros Blount stepped forward, a predatory look on his face. Sansa stood still and tried to stop the horror showing on her face. No, she must be stoic, any sign of fear would fuel Joffrey's campaign of terror against her.  Blount was advancing on her and stood too close to her side for comfort. She could feel his hips against her side.

"Blount, my lady is overdressed, feel free to unburden her". Joffrey's voice was dripping in malice. Boros ripped her gown at the front, the lacing was the first thing to give way under his assault. She cried out and covered her chest with her arms. The annoyed Blount and he struck her face. "Yes! Bravo!" Joffery was applauding Blount like he was watching a fool. "Modesty is not what the traitor's daughter deserves! Bring her low Boros, you have my blessing!"  

Sansa could feel Blount's breath on her neck, his one hand inching towards her breast and his teeth nipping her skin. She screamed in horror and saw his mailed fist raised to strike her again. She was aware of Joffrey laughing maniacally in the distance.

The punch never connected with her face. Blount's hand had left her body and his face wasn't near hers anymore. She opened her eyes to see Blount lifted off his feet, a giant hand around his throat holding him aloft. "Dog! Unhand him at once!" Joffrey was raging.

"No Your Grace, the Hand has told me to allow no harm to befall Lady Sansa" Sandor rasped.

Joffrey was incandescent with rage, he shot to his feet and jabbed a pale finger in Sandor's direction. "I command you to let Blount continue! I want that bitch broken..."

"Joffrey! What is the meaning of this?" Tyrion waddled past Sansa and up to the foot of the Iron Throne, followed closely by Bronn.

"Uncle! I wish to punish the Stark bitch..." Joffrey started in earnest.

"As a prisoner of the crown, she will be unharmed. You need her, even you understand that can't you? I will assign Clegane outside her chambers to protect her from you, you vicious little cunt. And you Blount, you are a shitstain on the good name of the Kingsguard. Attacking defenceless women indeed, does it make you feel more like a man? Does it make your flaccid cock come to life? Is your sex life so lacking that you have to beg your King for a kiss from an unwilling hostage? Are your wages really so lacking that you can't visit Baelish's whorehouse? Here, have one on me ". Tyrion looked daggers at his nephew and Blount, his tone laced with venom. Tyrion had inched nearer Blount with each question, the bawdy statements drawing giggles from the people in the room. He threw a golden coin at Blount and it bounced off his chin.

"Imp, you insult the King" Blount snarled and moved to stand in front of Joffrey.

"No son, I was merely pointing out a flaw in His Grace's logic. An insult would be to say that even the lowliest whores in the shit infested rooms of Flea Bottom wouldn't touch you for all the gold in Casterley Rock. In case you are too stupid to understand how I am insulting you, that's a lot of gold! My father is a wealthy man. Now can you see the difference? Do run along before I have you stripped of that white rag and put in the cells. Oh and in for future reference, you shall address me as Lord Hand Imp or Bronn here will tear you a new arsehole". Tyrion's voice seethed with anger and condescension as he waved Blount away. Blount looked at Joffrey, who nodded imperceptibly. Joffrey's eyes were trained on a point in the distance, his face was white and drawn with rage.

"Now Clegane, do take Lady Stark back to her room. You are to guard her door and escort her wherever she goes. Let no-one enter her chambers other than me and her maid. If Boros Blount or his like try to get to her to do her harm, kill him. Lady Sansa is to be allowed to walk free with you as her escort, anyone who mocks her for what happened here today is to get one of your fists to the face, or two fists and a kick to the gut but I'll leave that to your discretion. Am I clear Clegane?"

Sandor nodded, smiling and strode over to Sansa, he lifted her gently and ensured she was covered by his cloak that he had placed around her. He inclined his head towards Tyrion as he passed, conscious of Joffrey incensed ranting at his uncle behind him.

.............

Sandor carried her all the way back to her chamber. The exchange in the Throne Room had lasted no longer than 10 minutes but it felt like hours. Sandor was used to being the butt of sniggers but Sansa had been shamed so publicly,  word would spread around the Keep like wildfire. She was so gentle, it wasn't fair.

He kicked on her door in lieu of a knock, Shae opened the door. Her eyes widened in horror, "Gods! What's he done to her now?" She moved to the side as he edged through the door and lay Sansa down on her bed. 

"He let Boros Blount strike her, rip her gown almost clean off and assault her in the Throne Room." Sandor snarled at the memory. "Lord Tyrion said that you and he are the only ones to enter her chambers, I will be outside".

Shae sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked Sansa's hair, she had her eyes closed and tears were streaming down her face. A purple bloom punctuated her pale cheek, the skin had started to swell, evidence of the blow from Blount. "This poor, sweet girl has done nothing to deserve this". 

Sandor looked at the passive figure on the bed, "aye". He left them safe in her room and stood sentry on the doorway.

............

 

Sansa didn't want to get up later that day but she couldn't hear Shae bustling around. Her cheek hurt and she was still wearing the torn gown and white cloak. She opened the door to see what was happening. In front of her stood Sandor, his back facing her.

"Little bird, what are you doing?" He spoke as he turned around. A look of horror passed over his face, disappearing almost as quickly as it appeared.

"What's the matter? What was that look for?" Sansa panicked.

"Your cheek is almost black where he hit you.  Fucking cunt, I'll cut his bollocks off and stuff them up his pissing arsehole! I'm going to damage him so badly, he'll be physically able to fuck himself! No, I'm going to fuck him up so badly that even the Stranger won't want him." Sandor paced as he raged, anger made him restless.

She laid a small hand on his arm and mustered as much warmth as she could. "Sandor. I appreciate you want to help me but don't go after Blount. They've taken so much away from me, my family, my dignity, my good name. I couldn't bear to lose you too. You and Shae are the only people I care about here, I can't have anything happen to either of you". 

Sandor's face softened. "I'd do anything for you Little Bird."

She stroked the burnt side of his face with her hand, conscious of anyone who might come down the corridor. "I know. I'd do anything for you too. I want us to survive. That doesn't mean we can't have some fun for the feastday though though". 

Sandor looked at her quizzically as she smirked up at him.

..............

The pair took to walking around the grounds, observing and talking when they were alone. It had been a couple of days since  Sansa's humiliation. "We should stand here a moment and watch the Kingsguard training". Sandor ensured they were hidden in the shadows. Sansa thought it was odd but went along with it.

Blount stood in the courtyard, bare chested and puffed up, aware of being on display. He was strutting around the courtyard like an alpha dog. Sansa could hear him shouting out a challenge to another man. Kingsguard training session normally drew the attention of women, both servants and nobles. They lined the upper corridors, staring out over the men below. Sansa suspected this fuelled Blount's bravado.

Blount and another Kingsguard stood facing each other, their swords lay on the floor. "They'll use fists first before they will use weapons. The Kingsguard train with their own swords, rather than wooden swords. Watch closely". Sandor explained.

At a shout, they began hammering blows down on each other. Sansa had been on the receiving end of Blount's powerful punches, she flinched when several connected with the other man's face. The other man was pinned to the floor and his face was bloody. With a shout, Blount climbed off the other man and helped him to his feet. They stood opposite each other. When they were told to, they lunged for their swords and struck a blow. The other man grabbed his sword and aimed it towards Blount.

Blount's mouth formed an "O" of shock.  Simultaneously, his own sword slipped right from his hand as the other man's sword plunged into his naked shoulder. The other man's face was a mirror image of Blount's surprise, having expected Blount to use his sword to fend off the blow.

Sandor chuckled softly, "whoops, butterfingers. Clumsy bastard". He grabbed Sansa and moved away unseen. 

"Did you do that?" Sansa asked.

"I don't know what you mean". Sandor said with a wink.

When they got back to Sansa's chambers, they both dissolved into fits of giggles. "That bastard will have trouble wiping his own arse, you needn't worry about him hitting you again.  Hopefully the wound will fester and they'll take his whole arm". 

Sansa laughed from pure relief. She took his hand in hers and said "thank you".

..............

Sansa thought long and hard about how she could show her appreciation to Sandor for taking care of Blount. She wracked her brain and then she hit upon it. She wouldn't be able to do this alone, she needed Shae's help. Once she'd outlined her plan, Shae was only too happy to assist. The move was executed and all that was left was the see the results.

Her target was Lady Harrys. This woman was a Lady in title alone, she threw herself at every man she could, highborn or not. Sansa had heard from Shae that the blonde harlot had pursued Sandor relentlessly, convinced that the bulge in his breeches would be as impressive in stature as the rest of him. Lady Harrys had been offended when he turned her down, she told her friends that his manhood was burnt and not functional. She mocked his burns, called him ugly and said that she'd only pursued him because no other woman would unless he paid them. Sansa had felt so bad for Sandor, he didn't deserve her cruelty or scorn. Lady Harrys had also pursued Lord Tyrion in a similar fashion and done the same to him although Tyrion's status sheltered him from the worst of the mocking that Sandor had endured. She wasn't sure how Shae knew this information though.

"Sandor, could you accompany me on a walk please?" Sansa asked sweetly. He nodded and they set out. Sansa steered Sandor towards Lady Harrys's chamber.

As they drew near, they heard a bloodcurdling scream coming from Lady Harrys' room. Sandor snarled, he pushed Sansa behind him and went to draw his sword. Sansa put her hand on his, which was gripping the pommel of his sword and shook her head. He looked at her, the picture of confusion.

They had just passed the door when it was torn open and Lady Harrys emerged. Her face was an angry,  patchy deep purple colour and she was scrubbing it frantically. "Help! It won't come off". Lady Harrys was screaming and crying in shock and distress.

"Oh Lady Harrys! Why so blue? I was led to believe that the wanton women in Silk Street painted only their cheeks red?" Sansa commented sweetly, though falsely. Sandor's mouth was twitching and he was biting back a guffaw. His chest shook with suppressed mirth. 

Lady Harrys didn't stop for long, in fact she barely seemed to register Sansa's words at all, she was flapping around and demanding the service of every maester, apothocary and hedgewitch to remove the colour from her skin. 

Sandor closed the door behind them and fell on his ass laughing. "Shh Sandor, you're making the floor shake!" Sansa tried to admonish him but wanted him to enjoy Lady Harrys' humiliation, she was enjoying seeing him laugh for a change.  He wiped tears off his face and held his belly as he started to calm down.

"Was that you Little Bird? How....why?" He looked at her with still watery eyes, his laughing fit had subsided.

"It's the dye they use for fabric. Anyone will tell you what a nightmare it is to get it off your skin. It will come off eventually, given a month or so. Some may have found its way into a certain person's skincare products. And as for why. Well, it may serve as a reminder not to judge people on how they look".  

Sandor smiled.

...........

The day of the Feast had arrived and King Joffrey ordered his subjects to attend a banquet. Sansa was seated to the right of the King, although blessedly further away than the seat she had held in the past.

Everyone of any note was there, Sansa was surprised she'd been invited at all, her fall from favour was well known in the court, many people here had witnessed her beatings and public shaming. As a result, many courtiers wouldn't be seen speaking to her in case the King saw it as an insult to him. Lord Tyrion was notably absent, his sat was empty and place at the table unset. She sat silently among the crowd of merrymakers, Joffrey caught her eye from the high table. He smirked and raised a glass to her, then whispered in Sandor's ear. Sandor nodded and walked towards her, grim faced. Sansa knew that the tidings wouldn't be good but she couldn't help but look at the way Sandor's armour moved on his body as he walked.

"The King wishes you to share his bed tonight, he said he's been patient enough. I will escort you when the time comes". He didn't meet her eye when delivering the message. Sansa blanched and couldn't formulate a response, Sandor spun around and returned to his place behind the King.

Sansa struggled to breathe, the noises around her merged into one cacophonous sound. The blood was pounding in her ears and she was struggling to think. She poured herself a glass of wine and started to panic, there was nothing she could do to get out of this one.

............

The feast progressed, course after course of sumptuous dishes were presented before the King. Roast peacock, presented as if it were still alive. The blue and green feathers had been stuffed back into the bird after cooking and the colours from the plumage came alive under the candlelight. Sansa looked glumly at the bird on the high table and noted that her mother would never have allowed peacock feathers in the castle at Winterfell or indeed a peacock to be cooked for eating, there was a Northern superstition that the peacock was an omen of ill fortune. It seemed Catelyn Stark was right about that. Sansa smiled at her mother's wisdom and decided against sampling the bird.

Huge game pies were carried by 2 servers from the kitchens, they were so heavy that the 2 men were struggling under the weight of them. It was decadence, extravagance. Sansa had heard rumours of unrest amongst the smallfolk outside the castle, people were meant to be starving as crops failed and imports slowed. Tywin Lannister may command respect from people but he couldn't demand their regard, goodwill was wearing thin from every town in the land, food imports were just a small sign of this. Most of this food would go to waste, not that Joffrey cared in the slightest. At least her family's modest feasts had been shared with the people around them, at her parent's insistence. There was no room for wastage in the North, not like these Southron halfwits. Sansa started at the uncharacteristic scorn in her thoughts, that was Sandor's influence coming through!

Course after course followed. Breads, trenchers of vegetables, steaming tureens of soups. Halfway through the feast, many of the guests were steaming drunk and disinterested in the food. Sansa snuck a look at Joffrey, he was definitely tipsy. Cersei appeared to be scolding him but he battered her hand away. 

She knew her time was running out as a giant cake was brought out of the kitchen and presented to the King. It was 7 tiered, one tier for each God. It must have been as tall as Sandor and took 7 servants to carry it. Joffrey was delighted. "Look at me!" He stood with a hand on his hip and tried to command the attention of everyone in the Hall. Annoyance was obvious on his face as no-one paid any notice to him, there was raucous laughter and chatting from every corner of the room. Joffrey nodded at Sandor. "QUIET!" Sandor's voice bellowed around the rafters of the room and demanded attention. Everyone turned around to look towards Joffrey. 

"Good. Friends and nobles. I hope you have enjoyed this year's Feast that your King has arranged for you. Long may we enjoy the fruits of our labour and productivity!" Joffrey paused as a drunken cheer went up. Cersei beamed beatifically by his side. Sansa prickled at the ignorance of his statement. If rumours were to be believed, people were already starving outside the walls of the Keep. This wasteful sham was farcical, just because most nobles stayed within the confines of the Keep, well it didn't make the smallfolks suffering any less real. 

"We give thanks for the hard work of the people in this room to keep the Kingdom going. My hope is to continue the good fortune that the Baratheons and Lannisters have bought to the Kingdom in our time here. To that end, I wish to make a special announcement". Joffrey's ratty eyes sought out Sansa and rested on her. She held his beady gaze as her deep blue eyes met his green eyes unflinchingly, whatever he had in store for her, she wouldn't allow him to degrade her any further. 

"For the good of our realm, following the recent Battle,  I will make an alliance. I seek to set aside the traitor's daughter, Sansa of House Stark. I will join my family with the Tyrells of Highgarden by marrying Margaery Tyrell as soon as possible. She is a great beauty of a loyal family." His emphasis on the 'loyal' was pointed. "She is coming with her retinue and will bring provisions from the fertile lands of Highgarden with her. Wine, fruit, everything for as long as our lines are merged. I care for you, my people. What say you? Will you lend your support to your King and welcome the Tyrells to Kings Landing?" He paused with a smug smile spread on his lips.  A deafening, drunken roar erupted from the Hall. Tankards were banged on tables, feet were stamped on the flagstone floor, even benches were lifted off the floor and allowed to drop, for effect. Sansa was overwhelmed. 

"Good! Eat, drink and make merry! Let this year's Gods Feast see their grace touch us all! I am retiring now but please, continue in my absence".  With that, Sandor stood behind Sansa and raised her to her feet.

..........................

"Sandor! Don't take me to him, do you know what he'll do to me?" Sansa's voiced was high pitched and panicked, her usual composure had left her. They were moving quickly along the corridor, Sansa struggled to match Sandor's pace.

Sandor looked at her sadly. "Aye lass, aye".

Sandor arrived before the door of Joffrey's chamber and knocked on the door. Pushing it open, they found Joffrey sat in a chair by the fire, wearing only his smallclothes.

"My lady". His eyes raked over her body greedily. "Now you are no longer my betrothed, you shall be my personal courtesan. You shall service no-one other than me. Maybe in time, I shall honour you with fair haired bastards. I will enjoy your company". He reached out and tugged on the lace of her gown.

Sandor turned to leave. "No Dog. Stay. I don't know how compliant she will be". 

Time moved slowly in the next few minutes. Joffrey pulled her towards him and placed his wormy lips against hers. Sansa felt the urge to vomit as she pulled away. She felt Joffrey's hand around the back of her head, forcing her to stay, the other hand was inching up to her bust. 

Before his hand met her breast, his hands dropped from her. She could sense Sandor's presence behind her still. She allowed herself to pull away and see what Joffrey was doing. His one hand clutched his stomach and they both heard a violent gurgle. "What! Argh" Joffrey was unable to formulate sentences through the pain.

Sandor pushed Sansa towards the corner of the room and into a chair. He opened the door and shouted at the guards to fetch the maester. "Sandor? What's happening?" He turned to her with a smirk and whispered in her ear only one word.

"Insurance".

..........................

The Maesters worked into the night to stabilise the pain that the boy king was experiencing. Not long after, there was a mass break out of sickness among the guests at the feast. The castle was rattling with the sound of retching and clinking chamberpots. 

Sansa was expecting to be struck down too but it didn't happen. She had been in her chambers for half a day before Sandor appeared.

"What's happening?" She was unsure of how much she wanted to know. 

The smirk that had played on his lips the previous night returned. "Mayhaps there was a problem with the food?"

She gaped at him. "Sandor, what did you do?" Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"I did enough. Let's just say that the Peacock was foul. Move quickly Little Bird. Most of the nobles are abed with crippling stomach pain. Most of the Kingsguard got it too".

"How's that?" Sansa was baffled.

"We're not allowed to eat while we are on duty guarding the King but Joffrey gave most of them the night off. The ones who were working always sneak into the kitchen and pick at the leftovers, greedy bastards, same as the servants. There's one, maybe two atop the Keep at a push. We need to get out and we need to go now. I had word that Stannis is advancing again, when he gets here, he'll find a ghost castle. Joffrey, his family, most of the servants and Kingsguard will be too busy filling their chamberpots to plan defences. By the time anyone catches on, they'll blame food poisoning and bad ale. The Lannisters will be dead and we'll be long gone.  I'm taking you back up North". Sandor was pushing her to her clothes chest, willing her to pack quickly and light.

"Why did you risk yourself for me Sandor?" Sansa was touched.

"I wouldn't have let him rape you and I'd no sooner see you be his whore than I would suck his cock myself. I heard word while guarding him that the North is unsettled. The Northern lords and commoners alike are angry at the Lannisters for what they did to your family and you, the North is rioting and sending Southron men back here in pieces. Your place is with them, you can help put the North back together again". Sandor had a cloak in his hand.

"Will you stay with me when we get there?" Sansa was afraid to ask.

"No, Little Bird. I'll see you there safe and then I'll need to leave, I've been the Lannister's dog too long to be accepted by anyone else." He looked down on her sadly. 

"I'm not going anywhere without you and I won't stay there without you. If you get on a ship then so do I. If you turn back and come straight back to this godsforsaken Keep, then I'll be right behind you". Sansa was uncharacteristically firm.

"That won't happen either, it's too dangerous". Sandor was resolute.

"What if there was a way they would accept you? It would take a small bit of effort on your part though". The thought had struck her, it would work.

He looked at her questioningly and nodded his head.

"It would involve you and me, a cloaking and a bedding. Ours to be precise. Come North with me as my husband and any Northerner who rejects you will be rejecting Sansa Stark of Winterfell too. The Starks are the North, just in case you were wondering". She hoped he would respond without cursing at her. 

His mouth flapped open a couple of times, shock was evident on his face. She let it sink in for a few moments. "I don't want to press you for an answer now but I will need one before we get to Winterfell. There's no-one else I would want at my side other than you". She went to move away to continue her packing. 

He caught her hand as she moved past him and pulled her over his lap. "Do you even need to fucking ask?" He covered her mouth with his and gave her a greedy, passionate kiss. As he pulled away, he pushed her forwards and gave her a light slap on her backside. "Pack quickly, we need to escape and have that bedding as soon as possible, I don't know how much longer I can keep my hands off you. You'll be Lady Clegane as soon as we find a Septon far enough away from here". 

Sansa smiled, her small hands packed her scant belongings faster than every before. They headed quietly down to the stables, their footsteps covered by the bilious gurgling sounds of sickness and disease coming from most of the chambers. 

No-one noticed the lone black horse with two riders escaping from the Keep. Neither did they notice the new fleet of ships moving in on Blackwater Bay, only this time there was no battle awaiting them.


End file.
